Somewhat Lost and Gained
by sarahxxxlovey
Summary: What Happens After Hermione changes her parents memory. RW/HR.


**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter characters, settings, or plots.**

I walked through my childhood home, checking that all the lights were off and there were no stray personal belongings of mine. Silently, I walked through each room, stopping to grab things that I realized I needed, or just wanted, and stuffing them into the tote that I held against my torso. It was getting heavy at this point, causing the straps to dig into my hands.

I searched my room, making sure to leave nothing behind that would give anything to someone who searched my house. It was a precaution, the necessary means of keeping my family and friends safe, but that didn't make it any more bearable. I burned old pictures, ripping them before I threw them into the fire. It made me want to cry as I watched the old photographs crinkling and turning to ash.

That wasn't nearly the worst part, though. Mere hours ago I had done something that I was more ashamed of then anything I had every done before. It was like a growing pressure in my chest. Thousands of detention couldn't be compared to the feeling that was residing in the bottom of my throat and the top of my stomach.

I had cleaned my parents' memories. I changed them to fit my invented story. The thought again made me want to cry, and it took all I had not to start crying every time I thought of what I had done. It felt so selfish, so dishonest to do something that drastic to be able to save something that hardly existed at all.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, trying to concentrate of the office desks that I was currently searching. I sifted through paper after paper, scanning them quickly but carefully for anything that could possibly be dangerous. If I found anything, I threw it immediately into the fire.

One particular envelope caught my eye. I saw a glimpse of it as I tossed a thick stack of papers onto the flames. I caught it just in time. My name was addressed on the front.

_Dear Hermione,  
_  
It was my mum's writing.

_I hope that you're doing well at the Weasleys. They're very nice people. Although we know that you're very involved in your other life, but I feel as though sometimes you don't care about us.  
_  
Tears filled my eyes.

_Your father and I  
_  
The words were crossed out. I skipped a few paragraphs down.

_This is why your father and I think that maybe you should stay at home with us this year instead of going to Hogwarts or staying at the Weasleys. I just feel as though you would be safer if you were home with us. I want you to know that we love you very much but-  
_  
I couldn't read anymore. I folded the letter crisply and shoved it into the pocket of my bag. I would read more later.

I finished the rest of the house rather quickly; anxious to leave the house that was flooding me with unwanted memories. I went back to my room and took a few more clothes, one of my father's sweaters and my mother's scarves, then closed the door to my house for the last time.

I turned the key slowly, trying to memorize the sound of the locks clicking together. I would never hear that sound again. Slowly, I pulled out the key and leaned down to set it under the doormat silently.

My heart ached. My parents were safe in Australia, unaware that I even existed, while I was stuck here in my old town without anywhere to go. I figured I could get a hotel room somewhere, but I didn't feel like spending the night alone. I felt too desolate to be alone anymore.

I walked down the empty street for a moment. My head became dizzy instantly at the thought of having nowhere to be, but not in a good way. I sat down on the cold sidewalk to think. I needed somewhere to go, and a way to get there. I had a sudden flash back and in a flurry of impulsion I stood and raised my wand over the street.

The same violently purple, triple-deckered bus that I had ridden what seemed to be a lifetime ago skidded to a halt in front of me. A pudgy old man popped out and told me that it would be eleven sickles. I remembered Stan Shunpike and his funny accent from before. He wasn't there now. I searched around in my tote before handing him the money and stepping onto the bus.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked me quietly.

"The Burrow," I answered automatically, without realizing that Ron's house was the place I had wanted to go the whole time. "It's outside Ottery Saint Catchpole."

"All right," he said. "Sit anywhere you like. What's your name again?"

I told him, then thanked him and took a seat in the back of the first floor, right next to the window. My head fell heavily against the glass and I watched the dark scenery fly by.

I don't think it had really hit me yet. I was sitting in a bus, on the way to my best friend's house, and my parents were off thousands of miles away, because of me. I knew that in around an hour, I would be hysterical. I just hoped that I would be somewhere where I was alone.

I don't know how much time passed while I was on the bus. I gripped onto the windowsill tightly when we made a sharp turn; I didn't want my seat to move. I was content to stay exactly where I was positioned.

I heard my name being called by the man who collected my money in the front seat. I blinked, realizing that I had fallen asleep on the uncomfortable chair. When I looked out the window, I saw in the distance the crooked old house that I had grown to love. I rushed through the isles, bumping a few people as I went, but not caring because I wanted to get to the house so badly.

I yelled a thank you over my shoulder as I ran down the steps and broke into a heavy run towards the house. The sound of the bus screeching away seared through my ears, but I didn't stop running until moments later, when I was fully out of breath.

I realized I had tears pouring down my face. It was going to hit me in a few seconds, and it was going to hit me hard. I ran faster, gasping for breath and not caring that I could hardly breathe.

I also didn't care that I would be bursting into the Weasley's kitchen at nearly midnight. I threw the door open and was greeting by the sight of Mr. Weasley sitting at the kitchen table, reading glasses sliding down his nose and a book on his lap. He started to say something, but then paused. He looked me over once, and noticed the tears on my cheeks.

"He's in his room." He said, smiling sadly with a knowing look in his eyes.

I dropped my bag on the table as I flew past and, still gasping for air, I ran up the steps two at a time. I stumbled and fell, not noticing the splinters that were wiggling their way into my hands every time they hit the stair. I didn't care at that point. I was just desperate to get upstairs.

I opened the door without any warning, fully aware that I would probably be scolded. A fresh wave of tears poured down as I scanned his room quickly. It was neat and tidy, a rare occurrence, and it smelled the same as it always did, like freshly mown grass and laundry detergent.

My heart jumped against my chest violently as I saw him sleeping peacefully on his bed in the corner. His face was relaxed and his mouth was slightly open, but it didn't last long. I shook him softly, wanting him awake. He was going to be able to help me right now if he was awake.

"Ron. Ron." I shook him harder. "Wake up." I could hear the distressed tone in my voice. It scared me that I was so dependent on him at that moment. He buried his face in his pillow, trying to drown me out. I started crying again, my chest heaving as my lungs collapsed.

His eyes opened slowly, then blinked rapidly.

"'Mione?" he said in a sleepy voice. "What're you doin' here?" he sat up, rubbing his eyes. I launched myself into his arms, crying hysterically. I could feel the shock in his body. To his defense, he recovered quickly, immediately grabbing my body and holding me close to him. He rocked back and forth slightly, holding me tighter every second.

"Tell me what's wrong," he urged. I moaned in aguish. I couldn't believe that I had actually done that. Yes, it hit me hard, just like I knew it would.

Now I couldn't breathe. It felt like the room is closing in on me, like the air was suddenly disappearing around me, leaving me to inhale something that didn't exist. My chest was compressing, twisting devilishly on top of itself, choking me without remorse.

"I-I-I-" my voice broke and I sobbed even harder.

"It's okay, 'Mione. It'll be all right." He repeated that over and over and over like a mantra, drilling it into my brain. I sobbed even harder and he held me to his chest. He kissed my forehead. That more then anything calmed me down.

"That's it, 'Mione. Breath normally. In and out. Good girl," he praised me softly, kissing me on the head again. I curled into his body.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" he asked, pushing my hair behind my ears and looking at my face gently. "Please?"

"I did it," I said, looking guiltily down at my hands.

"Did what?"

"My parents," I moaned. He nodded in understanding. He was one of the first who had known of my plan. I had owled him weeks ago, brainstorming with him. Together we came up with our own plans.

"It's okay," he said softly, a small smile on his face, "You did it to protect them. I'm so proud of you."

"Why?" I said. I felt like a little girl in his embrace. He was so tall.

"Because you did something so amazing to protect the people that you love. It's a hugely admirable trait, Hermione. I really am proud," he said. I looked at his face and I couldn't help but smile a little.

"Thank you." I whispered, snuggling closer to him.

"Do you want anything to eat?" he asked, "Have you eaten? What do you want?"

"No. Yes," I replied. "I just want to sleep."

"Do you want to stay in Harry's bed for the night? I don't think yours is set up in Ginny's room yet."

"Okay," I replied softly. He lifted me up easily, his arms under my back and knees, and carried me the short distance across the room. He then sat back on Harry's bed, me still in his lap. "You're strong," I said, in a teasing manner.

"Always the tone of surprise," he teased back. He kissed my nose, and tucked me in, pulling the blankets tight around me. "Sleep well."

"Ron?" he turned to look at me. "Thank you." He smiled.

"You're welcome, 'Mione," he replied, sliding into his own bed. He smiled at me, before closing his eyes. I closed mine too, and I was soon asleep.

**A/N: Every girl deserves her damsel in distress moment… Hermione just seems to have a lot of them. Good for Ron though, right:D?**

**Thanks to RHr4Eva for betaing and giving me the wonderful title! In case it confuses anyone it's talking about how Hermione lost her parents (somewhat) but she gained Ron… in a way. So somewhat.**

Good? Bad? Review:)!


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